
Class 

Book 

Copyright }J^. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONNETS 

SUGGESTED BY PAINTINGS 

IN THE COLLECTION OF 

HENRY CLAY FRICK 



BY 

Frederic Fairchild Sherman 




New York 

CHRISTMASTIDE 

MCMXV 



^3 



0'\ 



T"^- q^\o 



\\^\;»^ 



Copyright, 191 5 

by 

Frederic Fairchild Sherman 

All rights reserved 

These verses must not be reprinted 



D[:C d!2 1915 
C(..A420043 



\ 



LADY INNES 
Painted by Thomas Gainsborough 

THE MUSIC LESSON 
Painted by Johannes Vermeer 

ST. FRANCIS BEFORE HIS CELL 
Painted by Giovemni Betlini 

THE POLISH RIDER 
Painted by Rembrandt van Rijn 

THE FORGE 
Painted by Francisco de Goya 

THE COTTAGE AMONG THE TREES 
Painted by Meindert Hobbema 



LADY INNES 

Painted by Thomas Gainsborough ' 

This is the portrait of a personage. 

No painted image of the common sort 
Of Beauty that is found at every Court, 

Her history oft' a blot upon its page. 

The artist had no need of any stage 

But Nature's own his Hkeness to support 
Of her whose character this true report 

Men's interest forever will engage. 

Dear little Lady of the long ago, 

As regal in your beauty as the rose 

That blooms beside you in the garden there. 
How good it is to meet you and to know 

That s\veet sincerity that buds and blov/s 

Fresh as a flow^er in your face, and as fair ! 



THE MUSIC LESSON 

Painted by JoKannes Vermeer 

How subtly fine tbc notes of color seem 

That liere have turned mere paint to melody 
In such a fashion one can almost see 

The very music in the glow and gleam 

Where fi:om the brush it flowed a silvery stream. 
Or heavenly blue, so rhythmically fi:ee 
Its song once sensed will never let us be 

But haunts us as Love's voice a lover's dream. 

This httle canvas painted by Vermeer 
Is called ""The Music Lesson'' to this day 
But this is what it is a picture of, — 
A maiden happy with her lover near. 
And Cupid listening for him to say 

Those words that are the very song of love! 



ST. FRANCIS BEFORE HIS CELL 

Painted by Giovanni Bellini 

Barefooted, in a simple rote of brov/n, 

St. Francis stands before bis rock:!bewn cell 
Here in tbe dawn, and from bis lips tbere swell 

Praises of God tbat ecbo up and doAvn 

Tbese bills and vales, — toucbed no^v witb brigbt renown 
Of sacred soil, because one God loved well 
Among tbem cbose alone ^tb Him to dwell. 

Beyond tbe vv^alls of yonder little town. 

In all tbe beauty of Bellini's art 

Tbere is no page more lovely tban tbis one 
V/bereon be pictured ^tb supreme success. 
And all tbe ^sdom of a tbinking beart, 
St. Francis standing w^bere tbe rising sun 
Ligbts up tbe world witb living loveliness. 



THE POLISH RIDER 

Painted by Rembrandt van Rijn 

W^ho is this rider of the tasselled steed 

That steps so high and champs the silver bit? 
How easy in his saddle doth he sit 

Gazing afar, unmindful of its speed, — 

As though he looked upon some grassy mead 
V/ith all the hanging lamps of heaven Ht, 
And saw Love there among the shadows flit. 

Where Pleasure ^svaits upon them ^who succeed. 

Is it not Youth upon his charger white. 

All armed ^th sword and bow, who rides away 
Upon the great adventure that is Life? 
His is the task some ancient Avrong to right. 
Some enemy o£God and man to slay. 

Or die himself there in the thick of strife ! 



THE FORGE 

Painted by Francisco de Goya 

How strong the miglity Spaniard's magic brush 
Has struck the deeper chords of color here 
Making for us, ^thout a doubt or fear, 

Another masterpiece, ^vhere all the rush 

Of life gathered in one crescendo crush 
Of molten melody seems to uprear 
Itself, forging in living fire a spear 

To bring the blood of every idler's blusb ! 

The glow of Goya in a bit of flame 

Lightens the darkness of the shadowed place. 
And touches ^th strange manliness the mask 
That Labor wears forevermore, — the same 
Determination stamped on every face 
Intent upon its own appointed task. 



THE COTTAGE AMONG THE TREES 

Painted by Mcindert Hobbcma 

This country road is the old patK of Peace 
That takes the tired heart home again to rest 
After the weary years of futile quest. 

How s^veet it is here where the noises cease 

To watch above the drifting white cloud^fleece 
And hear the sounds of Nature we love best. 
Knowing that in this refuge of the blest 

V/e too have found at last Life's great Release. 

The humble cottage is a home for us. 
For Time has hallo\ved it forevermore 

V/ith memories of childhood's happy hours. 
And young Love's dream, so brief but glorious. 
Still haunts the w^aiting threshold of its door 
V/ith the dear welcome fragrance of the flowers. 



FIFTYs^FIVE copies on ITALIAN HAND:: 
MADE PAPER PRIVATELY PRINTED 
BY THE AUTHOR FOR HIS FRIENDS 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologie 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATI 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 



T ' ,• 







